Healing
by MooseWoodson
Summary: Snape's healing begins while he is still busy hurting. But he is strong.


**A/N: Hello Readers. This is my very first Harry Potter fanfiction. :) Please read and enjoy. Reviews would be nice, letting me know what you thought. **

**Also: The rating is meant only as a safeguard against those who might be affected by the emotion and mention of the dead. This story contains no sexual themes and very little profanity. And as it happens, my name is not J.K. Rowling and so, I do not own Harry Potter or any other character or invention of her brilliant mind. **

There is no escape. No escape from death. No escape from life. No escape from this pain. I am forever doomed it seems. Doomed to suffer infinitely for such a rash, immature decision.

Thin, pale fingers ran through her vibrant red hair. Her brilliant, green eyes closed to the world. He let his tears run freely, his cries loud and anguished. The young child behind him was silent, as if to mock him and yet, it satisfied him later to imagine that not even her own son could grieve for her the way he did.

He clung to her thin, cold frame. He didn't know how long he lay there with her, and it was of no consequence as there was no chance of him being seen. But at that moment, he wished dearly for death. He prayed that the Dark Lord would return and see this weak betrayal.

He begged to be with her, to make amends and have his beautiful flower alive and well again. He vowed that if she were to be brought back and made whole, he would hold no grudge for the rest of his life. That he would be content only with the fact that she was breathing and happy.

But unfortunetely, even in the magical world, praying could not bring the dead back. There was no amount of potions or charms in his magical reportoire that could make his Lily whole again and every time this bit of reality attempted to weave it's way into his mind, he could only scream and cry louder, refusing to see reason.

That was many years ago. Over a decade. People say that time heals all wounds, but no one has ever had the audacity to mention that the alotted time for some wounds to heal is longer then a person's mortal existance.

Severus rolled over in his bed and clenched his pillow tightly with the hands that had once held Lily Potter's dead body. He gritted his teeth and shoved his face into the cushion. It was as much an effort to kill himself as it was an effort to hide the clear, hot tears escaping his eyes.

This was his daily ruitine. He awoke every morning with her on his mind. Whether it be from a dream of her that he had or from a night of blank, dreamless sleep. As it turned out, the dark, silent dreams made his mornings worse because when he woke from them he had to accept the fact that he had not indeed been dead, as he had hoped. And then he was rushed back to that night, when he had wailed and clawed like a trapped Hippogriff.

Severus let out one long groan of pain and then threw the pillow away from himself. He sat up, gasping for air and ignoring the wetness on his face.

He drug himself to the edge of the bed and then across the room to his wardrobe. He pushed the doors open sluggishly, not bothering to hurry. He didn't care if he was late. He didn't care about any of those children who came and went like the sun.

To the untrained eye, it would have seemed that the wardrobe was empty but it was only the mass of black clothing that gave the illusion of shadows. Severus reached in blindly and pulled one of the outfits from their place. He dressed just as slowly and made for the bathroom, so he could compose a suitable face.

He may not have cared about the students roaming the castle around him, but he did care that they did not see him in any state of distress. He had, at one point, been open with his emotions. When your pleas and tears couldn't even persuade the "greatest wizard of all time" to help you, why ever should you show them to anyone else?

He shaved neatly, making sure to leave no traces of his grooming on his robes. He washed away what was left of the mess and barely spared his reflection another glance before he headed back into his chamber. He plucked his wand from beside his bed and slid it up his sleeve in one swift motion.

He had to work himself into a rage everyday just to have enough energy to do the job he loathed. He thought of Voldemort, of how the bastard who had murdered his love was still alive, and so near. He raged at everyone and everything. He hated Dumbledore for not doing more to save his Lily. He hated James Potter for stealing away the one precious thing he had ever held claim to. Of all the people in his past that there were to hate, Severus found himself thinking of the one person invading his present and future. Harry Potter.

The son of the woman he loved and the man he hated.

Severus could never level out his emotions around the boy. He was always torn between loving the boy for being her son or hating him for being James' son. It was as if Harry was always taunting him. One day the boy would be generous and kind around his friends and Severus would have to leave to compose himself. Those moments were when Harry was most like Lily and Severus couldn't stand to look at the boy and see those same, brilliant green eyes that he had thought would die with Lily. But then, another day, the boy would start some kind of mischief among his friends and when reprimanded, he would respond just like his father. Those were the days when Severus had to remind himself that it was BECAUSE Harry was Lily's son that he could not kill him. He would again have to retreat to compose himself, but for a completely different emotion.

Harry Potter tortured Severus everyday of his existance and it was as such that Severus became even more confused because he didn't know if he wanted the boy dead to appease his anger at James or alive so that he may catch those tiny glimpses of Lily he sometimes witnessed. He wanted to protect the boy, because regardless of his James-like aspects, Harry Potter was still half of Lily and killing Harry would be like murdering Lily with his own hands.

That thought had spurred Severus to decide that he would have to insure the boys safety. He may not have been able to protect Lily but he could at least protect a part of her in the small, black haired wizard.

It was as such that Severus Snape entered his Potions class with a glare set in place. The students would most likely interpret it as his hatred toward them but in reality, they were so insignificant. This glare was a mixture of hatred for those who had ever done him wrong, either personally or through Lily. Pain for his weeping, healing heart and soul. And determination to protect Lily's blood, coursing through the veins of the incompetent fool named Harry James Potter.

**A/N: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think. :)**


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